


Quack Quack

by FhimeChan



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, Post-TWOTL, Smitten Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-26 09:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FhimeChan/pseuds/FhimeChan
Summary: Post fall, Will needs a hobby. He has also promised Hannibal a reckoning.Duck herding may just be the thing.





	Quack Quack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cinnamaldeide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/gifts).

> I asked Cinnamaldeide to prompt me, and she said, "post fall, Will finds another hobby, something we haven't seen yet". I dearly hope this is unexpected enough.  
Also, Will sort of sucks at this...
> 
> Unbetaed, so thread carefully!

_ Quack quack quack _

Hannibal wakes up inside the barn. Considering the argument he had with Will the previous day, at the end of which Will had agreed not to go to the nearest animal shelter and pick up a dozen dogs, nor the location nor the drug aftertaste in his mouth surprise Hannibal.

_ Quack quack quack  _

What surprises him is the paper box at the center of the room, full of noisy, fluffy ducklings. Blinking away the last remnants of sleep, he tries to open the door, but the handle doesn’t move. He knocks. 

"Will?"

A beat, and if there is no answer Hannibal is prepared to evade, no matter how many times they had fortified the barn of their shared home against the world. Hannibal is positive he can find a way out, regardless of the bars at the windows and of the heavy metallic door.

_ Quack quack quack  _

"Yes, my dearest?"

Sarcasm drips from Will's tone, but Hannibal relaxes. They are safe. 

Still, hearing vague shuffling noises from the box, Hannibal decides not to lose more time and to ask the straightforward question, "May I come out?" 

_ Quack quack quack  _

Behind his back, the box falls sideways. 

Hannibal adds, "Please?" 

"Sure." Will's tone is soft, almost affectionate. "Half a day, and you're out." 

Footsteps approaches Hannibal, who turns, ready to face the creature. 

As if seeing him, Will says, "If you kill the ducks, I'll make it a month."

There is a weight on Hannibal's calf, and when he looks down, a single yellow duckling is looking up at him with interest. 

"Quack?"   


* * *

_ Quack quack quack _

"Hannibal, come out, I need the ducks!"

Hannibal sighs and puts his knife down. There is a serious possibility he will receive another box if he does not comply quickly enough. In fact, he has already received another one. And ducks, differently from dogs, can't be potty trained. Or trained at all.

_ Quack quack quack _

Hannibal sighs and moves Harold away from his foot before walking out. A long line of ducklings follows him.    


"Will. I was making lunch. Is it really necessary to do this now?"

Under the morning sun, Will is breathtaking. Only the scar on his cheek reminds Hannibal that he is, indeed, human. Well, that and the long stick in Will's hands. 

_ Quack quack quack _

"Of course." Will mimicks Hannibal's cadence to mock him. Hannibal takes care to frown, because Will can never know how endearing he finds that there is a little bit of Hannibal in Will. He wonders if he has taken something from Will in turn. "The competition will be held during the whole day. The ducks need to get used to every sun positions."

_ Quack quack quack _

The flurry of feathers and of palmed feet bumps into Hannibal as soon as he stops in front of Will, then spreads around them. Never too distant from their mother hen, sadly.

"Where's the starting point?"

Will grins at the resignation in Hannibal's voice. "I think here can do."

And without further notice, he starts to use the stick to dislodge the ducks from Hannibal. The animals, as always, return to Hannibal’s feet as soon as Will moves to the next duck, but that does not discourage him. At all.

_ Quack quack quack _

* * *

"I've heard that traditionally herding ducks requires a dog."

"Yeah?" The look Will throws at him over the body of their victim betrays nothing. "Pity we decided not to get one."

“Quack?“ Harold peaks out of Hannibal’s pocket. 

* * *

The look on Will’s face when Winston sprints and jumps right into his arms is worth everything: hassle, screaming at each other over the phone, stealing from Molly, smuggling, mud, the distance from Will. 

Even the ducks. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
Comments, kudos, pointing out mistakes or emojis are always, always appreciated :)


End file.
